It was almost dark as we re-entered the ruined Legation lines and picked our way slowly though the debris which still stood stacked on the streets.  Fatigue parties of many corps were finishing their work of attempting to restore some order and cleanliness, and clouds of murky dust hung heavily in the air.  All round these narrow streets there was an atmosphere of exhaustion and disorder, crushed on top of one another, which oppressed one so much after the open streets, that an immense nostalgia suddenly swept over me.  We had had too much of it; I was tired and weary of it all.  It was mean and miserable after the great anti-climax.  It was like coming back to a soiled dungeon.

We picked our way right through where two days before no vehicles could have passed, and I stabled all the animals and carts, and handed them over to where they were needed.  Then I ordered that our captured things, our weapons, and my few last belongings should be loaded into one remaining cart, and ordering my men to follow, without a word of explanation I started off again.  I had made up my mind.

We passed rapidly enough out and again sped in the blackening night down the long street just as we had returned.  Almost too soon we reached that great gate on the corner to find it barred and bolted.  Somehow my heart sank within me at this; was it too late?

But there were cries and a confusion of voices.  Somebody peered through.  Then there was delight.  The gate was unbarred by weak women’s hands, and the soft Manchu voice which had first begged me to stop was speaking to me again....

Inside I found the courtyards and the lines of rooms which fronted each square were immense and furnished with richly carved woodwork; it was a rich house, and there was a profusion of everything which could be wanted—­only no men!  We securely bolted and barred the main gate, and for safety loopholed a little, because that is an art in which we had become adepts.  Then, with candles murkily shedding their light, I explored every nook and corner to guard against surprise, always with that soft voice explaining to me.  It was very quiet and soft with that atmosphere around; it was like a narcotic when a roar of fever still hangs in one’s ears.  I became more and more content.  After all, we had become abnormals; a shade more or less could make no difference....  That night was a pleasant dream....

III

THE SACK CONTINUES

August, 1900.

* * * * *

To rediscover the ease and luxury of lying down, not brute-like, but man-like, seemed to me an immense thing.  I had had my first night’s sleep on a bed for nearly three months, and I wished never to rise again.  I wished to be immensely lazy for a long period—­not to have to move or think or act.  But that could not be.  All sorts of marauders were sweeping the city and working